


Heartache and New Impressions

by Snacky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Jonsaexchange, Little Women inspired, Movie inspired, THIS IS NOT A HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOR JON/ARYA, jonsa, not every ship is endgame in this story, the jon/arya relationship is one-sided and unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky
Summary: Written for @sansapotter for the "Inspired by Film" round of the JonsaExchange on tumblr. This fic is inspired by "Little Women" with the idea of the Jo/Laurie/Amy relationships in the ASOIAF-verse. A little more ASOIAF than LW, but I hope you still enjoy!





	Heartache and New Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansapotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/gifts).



> A/N: Arya = Jo, Sansa = Amy, and Jon = Laurie. 
> 
> Jon is Ned's ward in this, so no one thinks they're siblings. They're all a bit closer in age to make this similar to Little Women.

**Jon**

He's lived with the Starks most of his life, since he was eight years old. After his mother died, without a father or any other family to speak of, orphaned Jon had no place to go. But Jon's mother Lyanna was a cousin to Eddard Stark, and Lord Stark spoke of sharing the same blood when he brought Jon to Winterfell. "You're a Stark, Jon. We share the same blood, if not the same name. You belong here with us."

Since then, he's lived the life of a privileged lordling, raised alongside Lord Stark's children, treated like a son by Lord and Lady Stark. Robb's his best friend, close as a brother — even better because they've chosen to be brothers, and it was not an accident of blood. Bran, Rickon — he loves them all like they were his own brothers. Sweet, beautiful Sansa — he'll never forget the day she went through the ice and he saved her, the fear that had almost frozen him at the thought of losing someone else he loved. But Sansa was safe, and she was the sister he doted on, showered with small gifts and affection, the sister that would someday outshine them all, meant for bigger and brighter things than the walls of Winterfell.

And of course, there's Arya — wild, lovely, willful Arya. He's closest to her out of all of them.

It's been a good life, so far, and Jon knows he has much to look forward to. Someday, Robb will be Lord of Winterfell, and Jon will be there by his side. He'll most likely be given a keep of his own, and the Starks will assure he'll make a good match — a daughter of a lesser lord will most likely be his bride, and there will be children of his own someday.

But, as good as it sounds, it's not what he wants.

Jon doesn't want the daughter of a lesser lord.

Jon is in love with Arya Stark, and has been for what seems like forever.

And for what seems like forever, Arya Stark has not been in love with him.

She hasn't had to say it — Jon's known how she felt. She calls him her brother and her boy, and she bosses him and fights with him and makes up with him and laughs with him.

Jon can't imagine ever loving someone else. Who, after all, knows him as well as Arya does? He's been sure that someday she'll come to her senses and realize that they're meant to be together.

It seems like the King's visit to Winterfell was exactly the key he needed, to unlock her heart. When King Robert made Lord Stark his new hand, and Lord Stark announced he was taking Sansa and Arya with him to King's Landing, Jon thought the solution to his problem had fallen into his lap.

Arya didn't want to go to King's Landing.

~~

"It's not for me," she had complained to him as they stood together in the kennels, watching the direwolf pups tumblr together. "Sansa will love it — Sansa was born for King's Landing and to be a great lady at court. But me? I'll just make a mess of things, and everyone will be unhappy."

She already was unhappy, just at the thought of it, and Jon could see it in her face. "You've always wanted to travel, though," he pointed out. "You've said how you wanted to roam over Westeros and see King's Landing and Casterly Rock and Sunspear in Dorne —"

Arya interrupted him with a elbow to the ribs. "Not like this, though! You know that. I always thought you and I could go off on an adventure, travel on horseback around the country. I … I didn't want to leave Winterfell like this."

Jon had seized his moment. "So don't leave!"

"Don't leave?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "How do you propose I do that?"

He caught her hand in his. "You could marry me. We could… be together. And you could stay here as my wife."

Now she stared at him, surprise clear on her face. "Jon. No, you know that won't —"

But he didn't want to hear her say no again, she he pulled her close and cut her off with a kiss. She didn't push him away, not at first, and Jon began to think that his plan would be a success. But then Arya pulled away from him, and the soft, sad look on her face — so unlike his Arya — was all he needed to know the truth of it.

"I'm sorry, Jon," she said quietly. "But I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, not able to give up even when he knew in his heart this battle was lost. "We could be married and do as you'd like — travel together, roaming the countryside, never have to set foot in King's Landing if you don't want to!"

She shook her head, and squeezed his hand. "Jon, you know I love you, but not like that. You're a brother to me, and that's all. And I would be an awful wife, not the good, kind lady you deserve, who would love you the way you deserve."

"Arya, can't you… can't you try?" He hated the plaintive note that crept into his voice, but even worse, he hated the thought of giving her up.

Again she shook her head, and this time, pulled her hand from his. "No. It wouldn't do any good, not for either of us. Please, Jon. Let it go."

"Let you go, you mean."

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "Let me go. I'll go to King's Landing with father and Sansa, and it will be for the best. For both of us. Maybe I'll change there, become the lady they all want me to be. And you… you'll stay here and forget me, meet a lady and make a good match for yourself."

Jon had wanted to argue endlessly, to try to convince her that she was wrong, that nothing she was saying made sense. But he had seen the look on her face, and he knew it was no use. When Arya made up her mind, there was no arguing her out of it. 

~~

That was days ago, and they've spent the time until this morning avoiding each other, best they could. It was no secret what had happened — Lord and Lady Stark knew, Robb and Sansa knew — and Jon finds himself the recipient of pitying glances that made him want to hide away and cheering speeches that he didn't want to hear.

But today Lord Stark and the girls are departing along with the King and his court, and Jon doesn't want Arya to leave without speaking to her.

He stands by her side as she mounts her horse, offering her a hand as she does, as Ghost and Nymeria tussle on the ground, saying goodbye in their own way.

"I'll miss you, Jon," Arya tells him quietly, looking down at him from the saddle. It feels like she's already a thousand miles away from him.

"I'll be here waiting for you."

"Jon…"

"I'll be here when you return. I promise."

She sighs and musses his hair, as he'd done so often to her over the years. "I wish things were different."

"I do too."

"You'll always be my brother," she tells him. 

He shrugs, not knowing what to say to that, no wanting to hear anything about how she loves him but not "like that." So all he says is "goodbye."

"Goodbye, Jon. Don't forget to say goodbye to Sansa." With that, she digs her heels into her horse's sides, and trots off, Nymeria following along.

Jon stands alone, watching her ride through the gate, and it feels as if his heart will never heal.

 

**Sansa**

This is her problem and it always has been: 

Sansa Stark is in love with Jon Snow, and Jon Snow is in love with her sister Arya. 

Compounding this problem is the fact that Arya, most decidedly and emphatically, is not in love with Jon Snow. 

Because it would be one thing for Sansa to be mooning around lovesick over someone who barely even notices her -- who, at best, treats her like a beloved sister. 

But it's quite another thing to have two lovesick, pining-for-what-will-never-be people in this unknowing triangle. 

Because no one knows, of course. They all know that Jon loves Arya, and that Arya doesn't love Jon, but no one knows how Sansa feels. And she thanks the gods for that daily, because she couldn't endure the humiliation, the ridicule that would come if her family knew that she was in love with Jon. They'd all laugh at her, say her head was filled with romantic notions from all the songs and stories she loved. Arya would be scornful, because what does Arya care? She has love and she throws it away. And Jon -- well, Sansa doesn't even want to think of how Jon would react if he found out. Puzzled and pitying, most likely, and that thought she cannot abide. 

The whole thing is foolish. 

The whole thing is sad. 

And Sansa will not be part of it any longer. She will happily journey to King's Landing, with her father and Arya. She will have a new life there, throw herself into her art and make the most of the opportunities that King's Landing presents -- the court is a world of high culture and excitement, tourneys and grand balls and parties and eligible bachelor lords searching for the perfect young lady to claim as their beloved, to take as their bride. These are opportunities that she would never have, if she stayed in Winterfell and spent her days sending secret glances at Jon, sighing heavily as her heart aches. 

Watching him do the same with her sister. 

No more of it, Sansa has decided. Life is meant to be a song, and hers will not be one of unrequited love and longing. 

She will have no regrets about leaving Jon Snow behind, she thinks, on the morning of their departure. None at all. 

But when she's mounted on her horse, ready to follow her father and sister and the King and his court along the Kingsroad, leaving home for the first time in her life, Sansa wishes she could stay.

She wishes it even more when she witnesses Jon and Ayra's farewell. She can't hear the words they speak, but she can see the looks on their faces, and what she really wishes is that Jon would ask her to stay. She'd readily agree, throw herself happily into his arms.

But that's not to be. 

After Arya rides away, Jon comes to her side. The smile on his face is strained and doesn't reach his eyes. "You be good in King's Landing now, Sansa."

"I will," she tells him, and if her smile is as strained as his, at least he doesn't notice it. "You keep Robb and Mother and the others safe."

"I will," he echoes. "And you keep yourself safe. Don't fight with Arya too much. Make your father and mother proud of you." He chokes a bit when he says Arya's name, but Sansa chooses to ignore it.

"I will," she repeats. "I'll make you all proud of me. You'll see." She doesn't know where the words are coming from. She has no desire to make anyone proud, not at the moment. But the only thing she wants is what she can't have, and she won't speak of it. Not to anyone, and most especially to him.

"Farewell, Sansa." 

He doesn't say anything about seeing her again, and the gods know, he might not ever. If she makes a match, she might marry in King's Landing and go off to her husband's home and never venture to Winterfell again. The thought breaks her heart, and if he hears a sob in her voice as she bids him farewell in return, well, he'll just think she's sad about leaving home.

That's what she tells herself as she rides off and she doesn't look back.

 

**Jon**

Lady Stark reads the letter from Sansa that Robb hands her, and Jon's filled with relief when she declares it a fake. All along the long march from Winterfell to Moat Cailin, they had both worried over the letter. What could it mean? Could Sansa have really meant her words, just because she was betrothed to Prince Joffrey?

But Lady Stark puts those fears to rest, when she declares it to be Queen Cersei's words, and that Sansa is a hostage.

"No mention of Arya," he says, and Lady Stark looks at him, worry in her eyes, but all she says is, "No."

They speak, the three of them, of plans — how and where Robb's army will march, whether Lady Stark will continue on to Winterfell or go with them to the Riverlands — but while they speak, Jon is coming up with a plan of his own.

"I will go to King's Landing," he announces. "I will do what I can to free Sansa and Arya and Lord Stark."

"What?" Lady Stark demands harshly, while Robb turns on him. "Don't speak nonsense, Jon, I need you here by my side."

"It's not nonsense," Jon insists, and he tell them of his plan. "I'll ride to King's Landing, not in Stark colors, but all in black, and pretend to be a man of the Night's Watch, looking for prisoners to take north. I'll get Lord Stark from the Red Keep dungeons and find Arya and Sansa."

They argue with him, of course, going over every problem in his plan. But Jon is insistent — he hadn't spent time with the Queen and the court while they were in Winterfell, kept away from their honored guests due to his bastard surname. He wouldn't be recognized if he were to show up in King's Landing, at the Red Keep. He was a northman after all, it wouldn't be hard to fool a southron court into believing he'd taken the black. He knew how to keep quiet and listen, and he'd soon learn from court gossip where to find Lord Stark and the girls.

They argue endlessly it seems, but before the night is through, Robb and Lady Stark both agree to the plan. Jon insists he leave now, before morning, before anyone else knows he's gone. The story can be that Robb sent him back to Winterfell, to hold the castle with Ser Rodrik, and no one would be able to spread rumors that would spoil his chance to rescue their family.

Jon leaves within the hour, leaving Moat Cailin clad all in black, and heading south along the King's Road. He thinks of Arya, and why there was no mention of her in Sansa's letter, why there was no mention of her at all. He's worried sick over her, but there's a part of him that hates to admit that she was right — the heartache has eased. He sulked over her absence at first, sure enough, but when trouble came, he put that all behind him, and with Robb, could only focus on saving Lord Stark and the girls. There was no time to think of love and Arya's refusal of him.

He can't believe that his feelings have changed — he's loved Arya forever, and it feels disloyal somehow, to have let her slip from the forefront of his mind. It must be wrong to let that love slip away, so quickly and so easily.

Ghost shoots off from his side, chasing some prey in the pale light of dawn, and Jon spurs his horse along. He's got a long ride ahead of him, and much time to think on this, as much as he'd like not to.

 

**Sansa**

She's in court when the man from the Night's Watch steps forward to petition the King for assistance and more men. She regrets every moment of every day since she's left Winterfell. She regrets falling for Joffrey's sweet words and charming behavior, regrets daydreaming about a perfect life as his queen, regrets all the fighting with Arya. She regrets her anger at her father when he said he was taking them home to Winterfell — she couldn't go back, not then, not after telling Jon she'd make them all proud of her, with her perfect life so close she almost touch it, and her father trying to take that from her.

She regrets everything. They won't be proud of her, not after her letters. They'll think her a traitor. Lady is gone, and Arya and Nymeria too. Father is in the dungeons. And Sansa is alone, with just her regrets for company.

Joffrey looks down scornfully at the man from his perch on the Iron Throne, and there's a sneer on his face. How could I have ever thought him handsome? she wonders, as she pushes through the crowds gathered in the throne room, anxious to see the man from the North, anxious for just a little glimpse of home.

She doesn't expect to see Jon Snow, dressed all in black. And she can tell by the look on his face, when his eyes meet hers, that he doesn't expect to see her. She's dreamed about it, of course. Every since the trouble started, she's dreamt of a rescue — Robb or Jon or both of them, riding to King's Landing to save her, to free father, to find Arya, and return them all safely to Winterfell. But it was just a dream — she never truly thought to see Jon here.

He's grown a beard, she notices. Silly that that's the first thought to pop into her head. But when she glances discreetly at Joffrey, at Cersei, she thinks it's a good thing. They barely paid any mind to Jon while they were in Winterfell, and they won't recognize him now, she hopes, with the whiskers and clad all in black, and covered with the dirt of the road.

As for herself, she pretends she doesn't recognize him at all. Jon doesn't greet her, and he was announced as Dryek, recruiter from the Night's Watch, so it seems like the smartest thing to do. 

"If I recall, there was a recruiter from the Night's Watch here not long ago," Lord Varys says in his silky voice. "He went straight to Lord Stark."

"Aye, my Lord," Jon says gruffly, his voice deep and hoarse. "But with news of Lord Stark's treason, Lord Commander Mormont wanted to reach out to the King, so he could see we take no sides — "

"The dungeons are full," Cersei interrupts, and turns to Joffrey. "And wouldn't this be a good way to send Lord Stark back to the North? With the other prisoners. Quite a homecoming for him." She smirks, pleased by the thought.

Sansa holds her breath as Joffrey considers. It wouldn't surprise her if he thinks up some new torture for herself and her father on the spot, just to make her cry.

But Joffrey surprises her in a different way: he agrees. "My mother, her grace, speaks of Lord Stark. We will sentence him to the Night's Watch and send him with you, along with the other prisoners." He raises his voice and grins his awful grin at Sansa. "You'll like that, won't you, my lady? To see your father sent away in chains?"

The only ones who will like humiliating Sansa and her father are Joffrey and the queen, Sansa thinks, but she nods, dropping into a curtsey and bowing her head. "He's a traitor, and your grace is most merciful to spare his life and send him to the Wall."

When she glances up, Joffrey is nodding, pleased at her response. "Very well." He points to Jon. "You may have your pick of the men in the dungeons. Be quick about it — I'll not have those creatures in my city for much longer."

Jon dips his head. "Thank you, your grace. I'll be gone by morning." He withdraws from the throne room, but before he does, he catches Sansa's eye. 

He's pleased, she can tell. She wishes he wouldn't leave, with just father. Wishes he could save her too. But father will be safe, and Sansa will … well. She doesn't deserve safety, she thinks. Not after what she's done. She watches Jon walk away, and her heart aches. She wants to cry out, wait for me! Take me too! Once, long ago, it would have been what she daydreamed about, Jon rescuing her from danger, just like he saved her that day she fell through the ice, that day she started to love him. 

But when he passes through the doors, she knows those were the dreams of a silly girl. It's important that father is safe, she tells herself. That's all that matters.

She wishes she could convince herself it was true. She wishes her heart wasn't breaking again, upon another parting from Jon.

When she looks up, Lord Varys' eyes are on her, and she shivers. He's always watching, and he knows everything. She hopes she hasn't given Jon away.

~~

She wakes in the dead of night with a hand over her mouth. For a moment, she has a wild thought, that Jon has come back to fetch her. But no, it's Lord Varys with a candle in his hand, and she can't even imagine what he's doing in her bedchamber, how he got there.

"Don't scream," he tells her, before removing his hand from her mouth. He tosses a dress on her bed, and a cloak follows. "Get dressed, and come with me."

"Why—"

"—Don't ask me questions. Just do as I say, and you'll be with your father soon." Varys steps away from the bed, turning his back to offer her privacy while he waits for her to dress.

Sansa's mind is flying in a million different directions. She can't trust him, she can't trust anyone, but oh, she wants to! She wants to so badly she finds herself following his orders, dressing in the shapeless grey dress, pulling on her boots, and finally wrapping herself in the dark cloak. If this is a trap, a trick of Joffrey's and Cersei's — well, it doesn't matter. Jon will have rescued her father, and what is left for her? She doesn't matter, not as much as her father does. If she did, Jon would have tried to save her too.

"I'm ready," she says finally.

Varys doesn't speak, just takes her hand and leads her out into the dark corridor. Within a moment he's taking her through a concealed door, one she never even knew was there. And from then on, she's lost, clinging to Lord Varys' hand as he takes her down steep steps, through dark tunnels, the only light the thin flame from his candle. Finally — and Sansa's not sure if it's been minutes or hours — they emerge into the dark of night, and Varys extinguishes his candle. They make their way down the steep slope to the Rush, where a boat waits. 

In the boat is Jon, and her father.

Sansa doesn't hesitate an instant — she's into the water and climbing into the boat and into her father's arms before she can even think. She clinging to him and crying, and her father is holding her tightly, and then there's a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, and when she looks up, Jon is smiling down at her. 

"Go now," Varys says from the shore. "You still have a few hours before dawn; you must be far away, as quick as you can."

Her father speaks, and his voice is low and wary. "Thank you, Lord Varys, for all your help. Although I still don't understand…"

"No need to understand." Varys waves his hand. "Go quickly before my help goes to waste."

He turns his back on them, begins to climb back up the slope, back to the Red Keep looming over them. Sansa shudders as she thinks of someone looking down, noticing them stealing away in the dead of night.

Her father tightens his arms around her as Jon follows Varys' advice, and begins to row. "Don't worry, sweetling. We'll be safe. It's the hour of the wolf."

He may be right, Sansa thinks. They're all dressed in dark colors, the moon is hidden behind clouds, and it's hard to see more than a foot in front of them. Still, she doesn't breathe easy until the Red Keep is gone from her sight.

 

**Jon**

Without Sansa, Jon doesn't think they would have made it.

It was his idea to rescue Sansa and Lord Stark from the Red Keep, but it was Sansa who truly saved them.

She denies it — says it was just that Varys caught her staring after Jon. It was Varys' suspicion that led him to the dungeons, where Jon was ready to spirit Lord Stark away, where he was wracking his brains to figure out how to rescue Sansa.

They don't know why Varys helped them escape — Lord Stark has no doubt they will someday, when Varys is readying to call in the debt — but he did, and supplying them with the boat and coin to aid them.

But Sansa, she's been strong throughout the weeks of their journey. She's taken care of Lord Stark, nursing him through the worst of the pain with his injured leg. She's the one who has ventured onshore when they've come settlements along the Rush, taking the coin to get food for them, dye for her hair, and herbs to ease Lord Stark's pain. She directed Jon to cut her hair with his knife, and then dyed it black as his Night's Watch garb.

It was Sansa who made Jon change out of the black — she snuck off while he and Lord Stark slept, and returned, triumphant, with clothes for both him and her. She wouldn't say where she had gotten them, although Jon suspects she stole them somehow. All she would say is, "if I have to be in disguise, you must as well. Cersei will have people looking for us, and we can't be seen."

She dresses as a boy — like Arya would have, Jon thinks with a pang — and Jon shaves his beard and kept his cheeks clean. They look like two boys traveling with their father, and all of it is Sansa's idea. Still, despite the disguise, they all keep careful watch along the banks of the Rush, worried that they'll glimpse Lannister soldiers following them.

Sansa insists that Jon let her row — they will make better time if they take turns, one sleeping while the other rows, and Lord Stark is still too weak to take a turn at the oars. Jon gives in, again thinking of Arya, trying to be loyal to the lost sister, the girl he loved so.

They speak of Arya sometimes as the boat moves slowly along the river — how she disappeared in all the turmoil of Lord Stark's arrest, how no one would tell Sansa where she had gone. 

"I think she escaped the Red Keep somehow," Sansa says. "If they had taken her, Cersei and Joffrey would have made sure to tell me." The look on her face is terrible, and Jon thinks of the bruises he's glimpsed, the way she flinches if he or her father makes a sudden move. Sansa hasn't told them everything of what she's suffered, but she's told them enough for Jon to guess the rest. 

"Varys told me she escaped," Lord Stark offers, not looking at either of them but gazing off over the river. "But even he didn't know where she'd gone." They all fall silent at that, thinking of Arya lost and alone, trying to survive by herself.

"Arya will be fine," Jon says, his voice firm, and Sansa and Lord Stark look at him in surprise. Jon's surprised himself — surprised that he said it, surprised to realize he believes it's true.

Moments pass in silence, the only sound the oars slicing through the water, before Sansa finally asks, "how do you know?" 

"I know Arya," Jon replies simply. "I just know."

There's silence again, and when Jon glances at Sansa, she's staring at him, tears in her eyes.

~~

It's not until they make it to the God's Eye that Jon allows himself to believe they will be safe. It's early morning, and the day has dawned clear and bright, and it makes it that much easier to think things will be all right.

Lord Stark is still asleep in the back of the boat, and Sansa and Jon are sharing rowing duty, sitting close on the small bench, each with an oar in their hands. It's the end of the journey in the boat — they're almost to the small cluster of houses that is the God's Eye village, where they'll trade their boat and coin for horses, and make it the rest of the way to Riverrun on horseback. 

They've heard tales as they've traveled along the Rush, at the villages and settlements that Sansa ventured into — that the King has had men searching the Kingsroad for them, night and day, but after weeks of finding nothing, the rumors say that the soldiers are marching back to King's Landing. Varys giving them the boat and them traveling as far as they could in it seems to have saved them.

They've also heard talk of the Northern army, that Robb Stark has marched from Moat Cailin to Riverrun, waiting there while he plans his next move. It seems like all of the realm is holding its breath, waiting to hear the fate of Lord Stark and Sansa. Robb will know they're coming, Jon thinks. He sent Ghost off when he first reached the Red Keep, telling him to find Grey Wind and wait with him for Jon's return. Jon has dreams that tell him Ghost has made it, that he's with Grey Wind and Robb, and he knows that Robb dreams the same. He can't say how he knows it, but he knows Robb is waiting for them. 

Sansa nudges him as they row. "We're almost there," she says softly, nodding as the houses on shore grow closer. "I should wake Father."

"Let him sleep a bit longer," Jon says, his voice equally quiet. The final leg of their journey will be difficult for Lord Stark, with his leg still not healed. Plus, he has another reason. "I like it being just the two of us."

Sansa turns her head and gazes at him. "Really." It's all she says, but Jon can hear the question in her voice.

He can't blame her — Sansa knows how he felt about Arya. And Jon can use "felt" know that all of his worries have settled. He loves Arya still; just not in the way he thought he once did. And he loves Sansa — he always has, but this is a new sort of love. Deeper than the infatuation he felt with Arya before, this is a love that takes his breath away with how surprising it is, but which also steadies him, as he feels more certain of it than anything he's ever felt in his life.

Arya was wild, Arya was bold, Arya was part of his boyhood daydreams of great adventures. But Sansa — Sansa was brave, Sansa was steady, Sansa was by his side. And he wanted her there always. "Remember what you said, that day you left Winterfell? That you'd make us proud?"

Sansa's eyes drop and a flush creeps over her face. "Yes. A stupid thing to say, wasn't it? After all I've done?"

"All you've done?" Jon stops rowing and reaches to cover her hand with his. "All you've done, Sansa, is save us."

She shakes her head, but, Jon notices, doesn't pull her hand away. "You saved us, Jon — "

"— But we wouldn't have gotten far without you. We did it together. And you made me very proud. Your father too, I know, and Robb and your mother will feel the same."

She looks up at him now, blue eyes wide, a smile starting to spread across her face. "Thank you, Jon."

He moves his hand back to the oar, starting to row again, and Sansa does the same. "We do things well together, I think," he says. "Like this. Like rowing."

"You're right." Her voice is still quiet, but there's a happiness in her tone that Jon is sure is in his voice too.

"I think we should always do things together." He's asked one Stark sister to marry him before, in plain words, and she turned him down. Now the proposal is not quite so plain but Jon is sure Sansa will know what he's saying.

"I think so too, " she agrees. As she stills her oar, Jon does the same, turning to face her. His question is simple. "Will you, Sansa?"

Her answer is the same. "Yes, Jon."

The kiss they share is the sweetest thing he's ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to J. for the speedy beta. All remaining errors are my own.


End file.
